Losing the Family Bubbles–That’s Mr. Bubbles
Two days ago, we lost Mr. Bubbles.
We started the day off well. Played with Mr. Bubbles, and then had a snack. After the snack, Bubbles was gone.
Who is Mr. Bubbles? Mr. Bubbles is her bottle of bubbles filled with green bubble juice (shaped as a lamb) that doubles as a whistle. She played with it two days ago, and while my head was turned, it was misplaced.
With me on all fours as her trusted steed, and her on my back, we went through our apartment looking for Mr. Bubbles. She yelled out for him while I looked in all the low places. It didn’t matter how many sweeps we did, he couldn’t be found.
She started crying, and I did the only thing I could do. Made up a story about him. I tried to reassure my daughter that Bubbles will come back, just give him time.
“Mr. Bubbles had to collect himself so that he can have more fun with you later.”
Then I started singing the first song that popped in my head:
We all have our singing moments, and I’m glad that this song calmed her down as well as got her swaying.
Going back to Mr. Bubbles.
Now, my daughter is very quick, and it wasn’t until yesterday that I realized where she placed Mr. Bubbles. She put him in my closet on the same shelf as my jeans. Maybe she thought he wanted to get dressed before heading out. I don’t know.
But it’s safe to say that Mr. Bubbles is no longer lost, and my daughter is able to blow bubbles (sort of–more spit then bubbles) and blow the whistle as her heart pleases (until I get tired of hearing it).
Mr. Bubbles: I’m glad we found you. I didn’t know how much longer I could take her make-shift trumpet out of paper. There’s only so much band practice a mother can take.